


It's High Moon!

by transgaylord



Category: Psychopath Diary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, CW: making light of suicide, Comedy, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by K-Drama | Korean Drama, Korean Religion & Lore, M/M, Misunderstandings, Seo In Woo gets goofy-happy when he drinks, and h0rny, that much is basically canon considering the face he made when he remembered the arson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21856213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transgaylord/pseuds/transgaylord
Summary: Seo In-woo plots the murder of Kong Chan-seok (that's the team manager with the ugly glasses and the toe socks), hoping to impress and inspire Yook Dong-sik, a fellow "psychopath." Hilarity ensues.Chapter 4 is complete. I'm working on ch. 5, where we finally, REALLY get into the meat of the situation...
Relationships: Yook Dong Sik/Seo In Woo
Comments: 20
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a joke, and the "!" is part of my brand as a psychoD fic writer. The title of this fic SHOULD be "대보름 대응" or in english "Great Full Moon Standoff." Or if you want to preserve the alliteration from the hangul: "Daeboreum Deadlock."

"Meet me on the rooftop, for _Daeboreum_."

"Wh... for the...."

"Bring _< nuts>_. I'll bring the _< liquor>_."

Kong Chan-seok was still gaping and staring back at him, like a dead fish waiting to be gutted. Disgusting... But after a moment, it occurred to Seo In-woo that this uncultured dimwit might not know those words in English. So he repeated himself, this time using the proper names of these traditional festival foods. Loud, slow, and condescending, as if he was speaking to a toddler or an American tourist.

"Meet me, tonight, on the roof of this building. I will bring a bottle of _gwibalgisul_ , what they call "ear-sharpening liquor," to sharpen the ears. You will bring an assortment of _bureom,_ still in the shell, to strengthen the teeth. Such is custom." 

"But sir... with respect, sir, It's only Friday. _Jeongwol Daeboreum_ is supposed to be-"

"Yes, of course. The fifteenth day of the first month. As is custom."

Now, Seo In-woo needed to stall for time. Just long enough so that he could peek out of the corner of his eye, just enough to confirm... an unruly mop of hair, glimpsed through the window of the storage closet that Yook Dong-sik has been using instead of a cubicle, these days. Undoubtedly a cruel, unusual, and arbitrary punishment from the team manager Kong Chan-seok. 

_Yook Dong-sik... why does he allow himself to be treated this way? A man like him? A man like... myself?_

Even while stewing to himself over Yook Dong-sik, _(That clever bastard...He probably prefers to be isolated. Away from their filth...)_ Seo In-woo managed to hold Kong Chan-seok's attention with a stream of improvised speech.

"...Do you really think I would take you away from your family on a Saturday night? And what's more, during a national festival? What kind of man do you think I am?"

"You are..."

Kong Chan-seok trailed off, breaking eye contact. He looked just slightly downward, aligned with the flawless knot of Seo In-woo's necktie.

"...You are my Director Seo, sir. I will grab the _< nuts>_, Director Seo, sir."

In-woo was startled to hear a boyish voice echo around the cubicles- a suppressed laugh, a snicker of some sort. And in the corner of his eye, In-woo could see the youngest member of Kong Chan-seok's team duck quickly out of sight. Very strange. Inexplicable... Or was it? What was it?? What does it _mean_...???

In-woo gritted his teeth around a sudden rush of frustration. But he tamped down the stockbroker's urge to investigate the correlation in data, and forced his grimace into a Cheshire grin.

"Just you and me, Chan-seok-ssi." In-woo's hand landed hard on the mans shoulder, and he spoke in a whisper, now. "...It'll be our little secret."

In-woo gave the man two more firm claps on the shoulder, then turned around, and the mask of a smile dissolved instantly. And then he walked away, wearing a frown so deep it made his jaw ache.

_...What does it MEAN???_

\---

"I told him... I told our Director Seo I'm gonna... Guh..G-grab the fucking..."

"Yes, sir."

"I heard it, sir."

"We all heard it, sir."

"Ohhhh... Lord in fucking fuck..." Kong Chan-seok went to adjust his thick plastic-rimmed glasses (it's a very modern style, said the shopkeeper– very chic), but instead bowled over, head in hand in despair. He stumbled blindly in the direction of his private office- the very picture of a broken man, fallen hard from grace.

"Oh Lord..." Kong Chan-seok repeated, loud enough for the entire floor to hear. "I'm finished!! Fuck!!! ... I swear, I am going to fucking _kill_ myself!!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever heard of cats bringing dead (EDIT: not dead, but just barely hanging onto life, so their owner can end the prey's misery) animals to the doorstep because they think their owner is big dumb cat who needs help learning how to hunt? I thought it would be fun if In-woo and Dong-sik had a relationship like that. In-woo trying to support and rehabilitate a fellow psychopath who lost his groove.
> 
> Remember that fancy hotel club scene, when Dong-sik said "I used to be a predator, but I feel myself becoming weak," In-woo looked... Crestfallen? Heartbroken? ((I'm pretending the notebook didn't drop, for this fic's purposes.))
> 
> Some sort of powerful emotion that is similar to "empathy," but "psychopaths" are incapable of "empathy".... I suppose he's feeling the same emotion that your pet cat feels when it sees you eating fruits and vegetables.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The distinguished _chaebol_ executive Seo In-woo takes a moment to thoroughly enjoy his afternoon... Does this still qualify as T-rated?? Feedback appreciated.
> 
> Edit: I bumped the rating to M.

A couple days ago, In-woo had sat down with a cup of herbal tea and had a long, hard think about his life choices. The conclusion: _I need to relax and let loose a little. But not too much._

Yes, not too much... The last time Seo In-woo had really allowed his _id_ to run wild, the result was a huge, disgusting mess. Blood and brains all over the god-damned floor, splattered on the wallpaper and fine antique furniture of In-woo's secret home office. 

And now he felt near overcome by a new urge. To do something- anything- everything- to attract the attention of that man. Yook Dong-sik.

A strange name. The vowels are short and sharp, and when he speaks the name aloud, the consonants land heavy in his throat. A name with power, that could cut off In-woo's breath and quicken his heartbeat. Yook Dong-sik... Is it even his real name? ...In any case, Seo In-woo could feel a thrill run though his body every time he sounded out those syllables. Yook Dong-sik. Yook Dong-sik-ssi. Yook Dong-sik...

A flash of pain brought him back to his senses. Seo In-woo found himself alone in the elevator, biting into the back of his hand while his lips and throat spelled the name out silently, over and over again. He gingerly, shamefully released himself, feeling simultaneously like an ill-mannered hunting dog and its long-suffering trainer. And then he stared at the cruel indentations of his teeth, noting how the two small white crescents faded into his skin tone before they bloomed pink, and then an angry red.

This primal urge. What was the source? His heart? His gut? Or somewhere lower, base and decadent?

Then he heard a familiar _ding_ , and hurriedly shoved the hand into his pants pocket before the elevator doors could open fully. Some people bowed to him before they filed into the elevator, and Seo In-woo acknowledged them with a forced smile and a slight dip of the head. And then, to avoid any conversation or unnecessary eye contact, he took his personal smartphone out of his suit pocket– struggling a little, because he had to use his non-dominant hand. And behold, there were two new texts from Kong Chan-Seok, one long and one much shorter. (In-woo had that man- indeed, most of the lower managers- permanently set on mute.)

\- Hello Director Seo this is Kong Chan-Seok whom you invited to the roof today and I had some things I needed to finish up but I am about to leave the building now and I will get them.

-The _< nuts>_

The man typed like he was several decades older than he looked. What a pain... Seo In-woo began to type his response, and found that it is much slower work when your dominant hand is stowed away. The shameful mark still ached, a little. He must have bitten down _remarkably_ hard...

\- Have you left the building?

It took the man quite a while to respond. Seo In-woo pretended to be very interested in his phone, and the weak, insignificant employees on the elevator had enough sense in their heads not to talk to him. The elevator stopped again, and one of them stepped out, to be replaced by two more... But he heard some conspiratory whispering, glimpsed some affirmative nods, and was relieved when every one of them vacated the elevator at the next stop. The elevator continued upward, and Seo In-woo received another text from Kong Chan-seok:

\- I am sorry

Finally alone and safe from scrutiny, Seo In-woo clicked the microphone icon with his red-marked hand, and dictated his response. He couldn't pass up an opportunity to say that fascinating name again, Yook Dong-Sik... To his chagrin, his phone misheard the name as "Ryu Chan-seok." But any trace of anger faded when he realized that he now could highlight the error and type the correct name in its place, admiring the strange, teetering shape of that uncommon surname as the _hangul_ syllable came into shape: 육. Such a strange name, 육동식...

\- Tell your team they can go home early. With the exception of Yook Dong-sik. I have something planned for him.

Something planned for him, indeed... When Seo In-woo reached his floor, he strode out of the elevator, grinning, swinging the phone carelessly. He breezed past the floor secretary, and into his large private office- no need to take out his ID card, because his subordinates immediately jumped into action and held open the electronically-locked doors for him.

Seo In-woo let the door to his office fall shut, and ran eagerly around the back side of his desk to open the large bottom drawer. A large tray of pill bottles rattled with the motion- he rummaged through them randomly until he found the sleeping pills. And not just any sleeping pills- these were custom manufactured by a friend of the Seo family, a highly concentrated sedative with a very short half-life, allowing the chemical traces to disappear before any cop or detective could run a test. (Seo In-woo's ridiculous step-brother, Seo Ji-hun, says it's great for hangover.)

And then he retrieved a small ceramic mortar and pestle from a fine lacquered box, which was lined with blue velvet and crafted with two perfectly shaped compartments to keep the antique items safe. And he began to grind one of the small white pills into a fine powder– He hadn't locked the door, but it didn't matter. Few of his subordinates would have the guts to barge into his office without knocking, and even if someone did, they would assume it's just a friendly mid-afternoon hit of some high-end narcotic.

And then, the festival wine– the _gwibalgisul_. Seo In-woo tapped on his chin, considering. Should he allow the gullible Kong Chan-seok to taste the real thing? A nice little severance gift before he himself becomes a gift, wrapped up so nicely for the repressed and tormented Yook Dong-sik...? Or should he empty the distinctive bottle, and refill it with some stronger, cheaper Korean liquor?

Seo In-woo uncorked the small bottle, and wafted its powerful aroma toward his nose. So sharp, so sweet, so tempting... It would be a shame to let such a fine liquor go to waste. It was a matter of national pride, whether In-woo had any witnesses in his office or not... And so, he threw it back and relished the crawling, stinging, burning in his throat (and in his face, and in his nose, and in his ears) as he swallowed it all in one shot. Then he placed the empty bottle carefully on the desk, soon to be filled with cheap, gut-singeing, concentrated alcoholic crap, stirred and shaken with a hit of white powder.

And then he tapped his chin again, considering. He had quite a bit of time, he predicted, before Kong Chan-seok would return from the grocery. How, oh how, to pass the time... A pleasant warmth spread outward from Seo In-woo's abdomen, all the way up to his cheeks and all the way down to his knees. And so, again, he began to rummage through the desk drawer until he found it: a black plastic case with a metal latch, containing all sorts of unmentionables. All the latest models from all the most well-reviewed luxury brands, with several different choices of lubricant- after all, they say variety is the spice of life, and that self-love is the deepest love a man can feel.

With a grin, Seo In-woo hefted up and carefully placed the black box onto the coffee table. And then he went to lock the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seo Ji-hun's reaction (indeed, any Daehan employee's reaction; perhaps almost any South Korean citizen's reaction [source: my friend's Korean dad]) to the name "Yook Dong-sik:" The fuck kind of name is that...? It sounds so fucking stupid.
> 
> Seo In-woo's reaction to the name "Yook Dong-sik:" The fuck kind of name is that...? I am so fucking h*rny.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My unfinished PsychoD fics have been on an unannounced hiatus for the past few weeks, for obvious reasons. But I'm back, baby!!

The harsh winds of early February could not ruffle a single hair on Seo In-woo's head. Even on the roof of the Daehan office building, high up where the wind is even harsher, leaning against the railing a few meters away from the roof entrance. (His preferred salon exclusive brand of hair pomade is acclaimed for its "superior hold.")

At least his hair was flawless. He knew this for a fact – he had checked in the three-paneled shaving mirror of his private bathroom, and then twice in the "mirror" of his phone (in "selfie mode") after he caught his breath from the mad rush to the elevator. But it turns out, even though In-woo had failed to notice his first _or_ his second _or_ his third alarm notification, there had been no need for him to panic, because Kong Chan-seok had not yet arrived on the rooftop. In fact, this Mr. Kong was actually making him _wait_.

In-woo was just about to consider going back to his office, to wash and sterilize the item he'd hastily tossed in the bathroom sink while struggling to get his pants on. But then he heard a loud crash, and turned his head to see Kong Chan-Seok frozen in place, having pushed the door half-open. The man was wearing a cheap-looking puffy jacket and a winter hat, and his mitten-clad hands were clutching two large shopping bags. His ugly, thick-rimmed glasses were slightly askew.

"Sir, I got them!" Kong Chan-seok yelled across the short distance. Then he stumbled the rest of the way through the threshold, and the door fell shut behind him. 

In-woo responded with an artificial smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched. So that's why the shopping trip had taken so damn long. Mr. Kong must have bought every nut in the holiday market.

And then Mr. Kong Chan-seok, that goggle-eyed chipmunk of a man, dropped down his bags with a loud exhale of effort. "Whooof! That crash handle sure came in handy. Or I couldn't have handled it. Not enough hands."

In-woo still just smiled quietly, unwilling to dignify that with a response. 

"You know, sir, the crash door. Easy to open in an emergency. It swings outwards, and the handle-"

Seo In-woo lifted an elegant hand, clad in a black leather glove lined with the finest cashmere. _Shut the fuck up_.

After a dramatic pause, Seo In-woo spoke in a level voice. "Now, walnuts. In the the shell. One for each of us."

Kong Chan-seok immediately began rummaging through one of the shopping bags, and retrieved two large walnuts, still in the shell. Then he cupped them in his hands and bowed deeply to offer the nuts, like a henchman presenting some precious object to a crime boss. In-woo reached out over the respectful distance Mr. Kong had left between them, took a nut, and then handed the small liquor bottle to his subordinate.

"We have the nuts, we have the wine, and now let's enjoy the view of the city!" In-woo tilted his head and grinned, feeling mischievous. "Unfortunately, I've already drank my share of _gwibalgisul_ , so we can't make a proper toast. You don't mind, correct?"

"Of course, sir, I don't mind!" Mr. Kong abandoned the shopping backs and scurried to meet In-woo at the roof's edge.

In-woo reached out and clinked his walnut against the bottle in the other man's hand. "So drink. And then let's get crackin'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short because Seo In-woo suddenly blacks out standing up (like how horses sleep) from sheer embarrassment when he realizes he has said "let's get crackin'," instead of something elegant and sinister to the same end.
> 
> I'll write the next chapter asap.


	4. Chapter 4

In-woo watched silently as his subordinate struggled with the walnut, trying to crack the shell with his teeth. It was a pathetic display, and it made In-woo think twice before attempting to bite down on his own. After all, Seo In-woo's mouth was full of his father's money. A perfect set of teeth, shaped through many years of orthodontic interventions, does not come cheap.

When the sight of Chan-seok struggling became unbearably pathetic, Seo In-woo deftly snatched the nut away from his subordinate's mouth. After a few seconds of effort, In-woo was able to crack both of the walnuts with the squeeze of one leather-gloved hand. Then he held out his hand to Kong Chan-seok, who was staring with wide goggled eyes.

"Wow... Director Seo is so cool..."

In-woo raised his eyebrow at the unexpected praise, as his subordinate carefully picked the raw innards of one walnut away from the broken shell. He popped it in his mouth and chewed enthusiastically, leaving In-woo with a hand full of walnut shell pieces. In-woo felt like a nanny who just peeled open an orange for a stubborn little child, and was left with a handful of orange-peel. 

Annoyed at this treatment, In-woo picked his own nut from the shell, and dropped the remnants over the edge of the roof when his subordinate wasn't looking. He nibbled at it delicately, trying not to grimace at the bitter taste. 

Kong Chan-seok consumed his nut in record time, and then popped open the _gwibalgisul_ bottle. Of course, it was easy even for Chan-seok's mittened hands to uncork the bottle, because In-woo had opened the bottle before in his office.

Chan-seok drank In-woo's homemade sedative elixir in small, delicate sips, and it was starting to grate on In-woo's nerves. It was impolite. With such an expensive-looking bottle, the man should have downed it greedily like a dose of heavenly nectar, and then In-woo wouldn't have to worry whether Yook Dong-sik had already left for the night.

Or perhaps an indulgent treat ought to be savored slowly. And perhaps a foodstuff that is cheap and not delicious should be consumed as quickly as possible. In-woo pondered this, nodding along to whatever the gullible Mr. Kong was yammering about.

In-woo made a decision. He popped the rest of the nut in his mouth and chewed reluctantly. A peasant's fare, bland and disgusting- but at least he now had two hands free to take out his phone.

He removed one glove, and his heart beat faster- the bite mark was still visible. There were shallow indents on the surface of the skin, and the beginnings of a bruise forming. A teasing reminder, though In-woo would rather forget the incident... And he'd rather forget the details of what he did to himself in his office before he rushed to meet his target on the roof.

_-Yook Dong-Sik. I urgently need to speak with you._

In-woo held his breath, and only let it out once he received Dong-sik's reply.

_-whoz this?_

With a surge of mania, In-woo hastily typed his response. He only had one chance. He MUST make this work. 

_-My name is Seo In-woo. I am the the elder brother of Seo Ji-hun. I must speak to you, Dong-sik. Tonight, in person. There is a matter that requires your expert attention._ _You will find me on the roof._

It was a long time before In-woo received a reply.

_-they ought to pay me for overtime._

In-woo glanced to the side, and saw that Mr. Kong was beginning to sway where he stood, staring listlessly at the city lights beyond the rooftop. In-woo quickly removed the near-empty bottle from the man's mitten-clad hand, and slipped it into his own pocket. He must leave no evidence.

The wind was biting cold, but before In-woo put his glove back on, he sent one last text to Yook Dong-sik:

_-You will have anything you desire._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super mundane headcanon: In-woo had to wear orthodontic headgear when he was little.


End file.
